


mortals and immortality

by doofusface



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Death, F/M, Family, Growing Old, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, Mortality, Multi, Post-Canon, Rip tbh, dealing with lifespans, just a lot of family feels, light shipping tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:52:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8581033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, even heroes die.
How Vox Machina falls, and rises again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i promise it's not as sad as it sounds??

Grog lasted longer than they thought, really. He liked his fights even after the world didn't require much saving, and he liked to train recruits with… _realistic_ scenarios. Pike had to keep him from skewering the trainees, but nothing much could be done when he died a hero’s death, saving a town from an elemental foe. He was old enough for them to not consider revival, and besides, Pike reminded the group that Grog wanted to die in a blaze of glory—and he reached that to a T, considering the elemental was from the fire plane.

(Vax writes something in Giant on his tombstone, then draws Grog slapping him in the face underneath, in case his soul needed a translation. Scanlan makes sure his magical jug is buried with him.

“He might want some mayonnaise,” he jokes, wiping away a tear.)

 

Percy noted that _he_ should've passed first, which Vex agreed with, not without a sombre look at the human. His track record for rushing into things wasn't that much better, really, but with most of his dealings lying in the political realm the years after the Conclave, he'd managed to stay alive rather easily. It helped that he was charming, and his wife was charming, and they were both very, _very_ rich.

He falls asleep in his workshop in the afternoon, at 95 years of age, building something for a grandchild yet to be named. Vex chuckles sadly when she finds him; she'd made peace with their difference in lifespan decades ago, and had spent as much time with him as possible in all those years—there were no regrets.

Vax told her he was waiting, but happy. Keyleth cries the most, then druidcrafts a gun made of wood and petals and buries it on the manor grounds; the Sun Tree assures her it's taken root.

(The grandchild was the fifth of his name, and he'd grow up to finish the gift himself.)

 

Vex manages to live an extra century with a fire and love for life that only she could manage, with Trinket ever by her side. Vax thinks it's ridiculous that he sold his soul to the Raven Queen for her to die first anyway, but it's a good-natured joke because they're pushing 168 years on the planet and they both know they've lasted much longer than they should've.

Velora puts a wreath of feathers on her body before they close the crypt for good—Vex is beside Percy once more, and that's all it takes for Vax to start smiling again.

Trinket wiggles his way to her tomb—Vex had it made large enough for the both of them, because why not? He refuses to leave when they threaten to close the door, and huffs in grief before breathing his last.

Vax is stunned, but a voice tells him there is peace here, and he pats the bear one last time as they close the crypt.

 

Vax lives two full years after her, and then the Raven Queen rests once more. Keyleth safeguards the armour; she's come around to the deity, allowing a temple to be built in her lands. Vax laughs on his deathbed; “Two minutes out the womb, two years late to death. See you soon, Stubby.”

He passes with Keyleth holding his hand and his descendants in the next room. The remainder of Vox Machina is there as well, and Pike prays to both their gods when he breathes last. Kynan’s great-grandchildren pay their respects the second they hear about it.

Vax’s passing is solemn and quiet, much like him. Keyleth thinks it's fitting.

 

Scanlan goes next.

The all saw it coming—he was the oldest, and he always said it. Kaylie made a joke of it at his funeral, and pointedly reminded everyone that he liked the air to be lighter, even in dire circumstances.

There was more merriment than drab funeral rites, at least, and the group plus Kaylie (Dr. Drah had passed surprisingly early, and the troupe hadn't lasted much longer afterward) stayed up til sunrise trying to recall every single line of inspiration they'd heard from him, limericks and all.

Pike watched the stars happily, remembering his letter; death came to all, and she was at least glad they'd lasted this long.

 

Pike lived peacefully, traveling cross-country to build temples and heal and teach. She was a roving version of Keyleth, sans druidic spell-casting. She makes a point of taking in the unwanted, and teaching the illiterate. She has a list of names on her person—tattoos of her family's names—Grog’s is in Giant.

She lives long enough to become her own legend—the Monster Cleric of Vox Machina. Her gauntlets serve her well, and she prays for divine intervention on the day before her death; the gauntlets are whisked away by a celestial sent by Sarenrae to an undisclosed location.

She dies how she lives—expending too much energy taking care of others. Keyleth visits, alone in the knowledge of what they'd traversed together, but full in knowing they would meet again. Kaylie, who had been traveling with her, sings a tune so pure it strikes all present with a sense of peace.

 

Keyleth sees them all again centuries later. The years pass like a whirlwind, and she has seen the next great group of adventurers rise amidst a new danger. The conflict has just begun when she dies, but she is comforted of her guilt when she remembers that not all fights are hers. The new Headmaster has learned his lessons well, and she trusts the world will survive long after he is gone as well.

Tiberius bows to her with his ever-present reverence, and Grog picks them all up in a tight hug—somehow his soul is stronger than his old body, or maybe they're all just _lighter_ now.

“ _Now_ we can party!” he cheers, and one by one Vox Machina walks the long, eternal road to Wherever Else, arms linked and songs sung in an immortal harmony of bear grunts and bickering choruses.

 

Such is life; much more is death.

**Author's Note:**

> SEE THAT WASNT SO BAD NOW WAS IT
> 
> hmu on twitter (@thedoofusface) or tumblr (doofusface)


End file.
